I'll Always Save You
by moriaretamor
Summary: Lisbon is reflecting on her new life, everything that's happened and her feelings about Jane. Post-Red John. (During the two year gap) Jisbon, only from Lisbon's POV. one-shot


Teresa Lisbon woke with a convulsive sob. Cold sweat covered her body as she sat up on the edge of the bed, gulping back the tears. She rubbed her temples and tried shut out the image of the burning CBI office seared to her mind. She saw Rigsby passed out on the floor and the agony etched on Cho's face. She heard Van pelt screaming; Jane crying for help, just out of her reach.

"It was only a dream." She whispered to her dark bedroom. What she didn't admit was that it wasn't just any dream; it was a variation of the same nightmare. Sometimes she was at the office, sometimes at a crime scene, other times in Jane's attic. There were nights when she once again encountered Brett Partridge's bloody body, shrank beneath Red John's sneering eyes, or seethed under Tommy Volker's malicious grin. But one thing was always the same. It always ended with her screaming Jane's name, trying to get him. Trying to save him.

She turned on the lights in the kitchen and began filling a kettle with water. She was suddenly overtaken with enormous sadness. She saw his green eyes, his brilliant smile, his curly hair. She remembered the hundreds of times she had seen him looking up at her from a boiling kettle. "Where's the kitchen?" he asked everywhere they went, before rummaging through stranger's cupboards. He would offer a cup of tea and somehow extract secrets from the most unlikely suspects. With a single word he could break through the toughest facade. She smiled, remembering how his all-knowing eyes could incense even the calmest individual.

The whistling tea pot brought her out of her musings. She poured the steaming water into her mug, grabbed a tea bag, and headed for the living room of her small Washington apartment. It had been over a year since she had seen him, but not a day went by that she didn't think of him. The strangest things would bring him to her mind. She would find herself imagining what he would say in a certain situation or how he would tell-off a particularly annoying person. He still haunted her waking hours, just as he haunted her dreams.

She remembered the frantic look in his eyes the last time she saw him. The team had all been there, staring down Abbott with guns drawn and eyes blazing; willing to kill to defend Jane. Her heart had filled with pride at the sight of her team standing together, and her mind with anger at their stupidity. "Thank you guys!" were the last words she heard before he sped away in her car to what she was sure would be his demise.

The next hour spent in FBI custody had been torture; waiting to hear if he was still alive. She had been plagued by the countless images of the horrible things she was sure Bertram was doing to Jane. Then there was the overwhelming sense of relief she lost herself in when they heard from him at last. "Lisbon. It's over. It's done. I just want you to know I'm ok. and I'm gonna miss you."

The next weeks had been surrounded with endless and wearisome speculations about what happened after Jane struck out on his own. All they had was circumstantial evidence and three dead bodies. Once the police discovered McAllister at the park, she was sure he was the real Red John. He was supposed to have died in the explosion, there was no away around that. Jane's fingerprints on the gun, the strangle marks, and the "Sherriff's" blood at the chapel only confirmed her suspicions. But what had happened with Bertram and Cordero?

Abbott eventually went back to Texas, leaving the members of the former Serious Crimes Unit to put out the fires he left behind. In the span of just three short weeks Lisbon lost her best friend and partner, maybe forever, when he killed at least one man and fled the country. Her job was shut down by the federal government and her team was thoroughly questioned as suspected members of an association of corrupted cops. Her work family eventually scattered, and she found herself trying to piece together the shattered fragments. A few months later she found herself starting a completely new life.

Teresa told herself she moved to Washington for the job, but that wasn't strictly true. There would have been plenty of jobs closer to home for a former senior agent of her reputation with the CBI, even with the recent scandals that had surrounded the department. She just couldn't stay there. She had to get away from the ghosts that troubled her; the memories that lurked on every corner: Cho's solemn stare, Rigsby and Grace holding hands. The team laughing over a "case closed pizza," the rush of interrogating a suspect, everyone trying to stay awake during a stake-out. Each part of the city reminded her of an old case and everything she had lost. But most of all there was Jane. Jane "sleeping" on his couch. Jane buying her a pony for her birthday. Jane insulting a criminal. Jane and his infuriatingly arrogant grin.

Her new life in Washington was peaceful, she could give it that. After the last few months of unbelievably rampant emotions in California, the calm had been refreshing. She enjoyed the simple cases she dealt with. She made an effort to make new friends; to build a new life. It seemed that no matter what she tried she could never get beyond the voices in her head. As the novelty wore off, she tried to fight off the nagging questions in her mind. She began to wonder what difference she was really making dealing with stolen bikes, drunk drivers, and domestic violence. But then, what big of a different had they been making before? Had any of it meant anything?

And then there were the letters. One sunny California morning a Carney worker had showed up at her apartment with a letter and a smile. She remembered taking a break from packing to open it up with shaking hands. Jane explained what had happened with Bertram and McAlister- how he had finally killed Red John. She had pieced most of it together on her own, but hearing it from him provided closure. He told her about the events that transpired at the chapel, and the peace he felt within himself. She was touched by his sincere desire to let her know he was ok.

She didn't expect to hear much from him after the first letter. She was surprised when another showed up about a month later. They started to come more and more frequently over the next few months; each varying in topic and length. She wondered how he found reliable Carney folk in Washington, but she imagined the network spread across America. Often the letters were simple details about his new life in Mexico, about the people he was meeting, and the loneliness he was dealing with. He told her about the beauty of the island and the slow pace of his life. She wondered if he struggled to find a new sense of purpose after Red John, the way she was struggling to find meaning in her new life.

Lisbon took a sip of her tea and sighed. _Red John is dead_. She thought to herself. _And Jane is safe. So why am I still having these nightmares? Why do I see him everywhere I look?_ If she were to be honest with herself, she knew the answers to those questions. They were filed away deep in her heart with other dark thoughts she tried not to contemplate. But on nights like this, she had to come face to face with the terrifying truth. She loved him.

Was "love" even the right word? It seemed so strange to admit it, even if only to herself. He was her best friend. She knew his darkest side, and he knew hers. They had supported each other in search of revenge and happiness. He had meant the world to her, in the way no one else ever had. And she knew she had meant a lot to him. Hadn't she?

She closed her eyes like she had done a thousand times before and watched it all come back. Each hug, each conversation, every comforting touch, every angry word. The little crinkles around his eyes, the incensing way he always went behind her back. His cocky attitude. The rare glimpse she would sometimes catch of his wounded soul. His secretive nature, the way had to control every situation and each outcome. How frightened she would be to see his savage thirst for revenge burning just beneath the surface. There was the annoying way he felt the need to continually prove that he was the smartest person in the room. The time he told her he loved her, and then denied it, even though they both knew it had happened. It was an unspoken truth that neither of them could face.

She day dreamed about getting on a plane and going to him. She thought about telling him how she felt. How she had come to love him. She knew they shared a deep connection; deeper than she would have thought possible before now. But what did it mean to him, now that he had avenged his family's death? Had he come to realize he loved her, as he started to move on? Or was she a part of that past, too dark for him to ever face again?

She rolled her eyes at the wandering path her thoughts had lead her down. What was she even thinking? It didn't matter what either of them felt. It was unlikely, almost impossible, that they would ever see each other again. _Almost impossible_. She turned off the lights and attempted to shove her troubling thoughts back into the darkest crevices of her mind. These emotions raised too many questions she wasn't able to answer. There were too many painful feelings she wasn't ready to face.

Teresa headed back to bed and closed her eyes, hoping that the shadowy thoughts might disappear. She heard his voice reaching out from the past. _"You know I'm always going to save you Lisbon, whether you like it or not." _For the first time in forever, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. For once, she wasn't trying to save him. He was saving her.

END.


End file.
